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This story is No. 2 in the series "Buffy Anne Malfoy". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Narcissa worries about her son while he's away. It's what mothers do.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > GeneralgrundyFR1523,3160137,5253 Aug 1219 Aug 12Yes

Chapter One

Disclaimer: Buffy belongs to Joss, Harry belongs to JK. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.

Narcissa Malfoy hadn’t ever expected to worry so much about her son’s safety after the Dark Lord’s defeat. Before His downfall, certainly. She’d worried enough those last two years to last a lifetime. She’d been willing to go to Severus in defiance of His orders to assure her son’s safety. She’d have cheerfully Avada’ed her deranged sister if that was what it took. As far as Narcissa was concerned, this was normal. She was Draco’s mother. Mothers do what they have to do to protect their children.

But she couldn’t protect him from this. She’d known, of course. She’d found out Lucius’ shameful little secret, just before going into labor with Draco. Her darling husband had consorted with a Muggle. Oh, she’d known on some level that things could get a bit out of hand at some of the all-male Death Eater revels. Wizards had… urges, after all. But her Lucius, filthy himself with one?

She’d been devastated. And furious. She’d waited until several days after the birth to confront her husband. The house elves had been instructed to keep the little master safe in his nursery until mistress had finished having words with master. The orders she’d given meant the elves would guard Draco with their lives if need be.

Then she’d lit into Lucius. He hadn’t seen it coming. The more fool him. Had he thought he married some fluffy, simpering little Huffle who would be only too happy to polish his wand on command and produce little wizards and witches for him when he deemed the time right and overlook his indiscretions? She was a witch of the ancient and most noble house of Black, heiress of generations of Slytherin breeding. She had never countenanced him fooling around on her once they were bethrothed. Had he expected it to be somehow permissible because he took his ease with a disposable plaything? Or perhaps that it was acceptable due to her condition?

Her stunned husband had listened to her in astonishment as she calmly explained to him how things were going to be if he wished to remain intact. Divorce was not done in the house of Black or the house of Malfoy, and even if she had considered it, why bother? She was uncontested mistress of Malfoy Manor, had at her disposal some of the largest accounts at Gringotts, and her husband’s family name commanded more fear and respect than that of Black.

No, she had simply informed Lucius that there were certain parts of his body that belonged to her alone since the date of their marriage contract, and if he did not feel he could keep full control of those parts, she would- though sadly, her methods might make providing a younger sibling for Draco impossible without the aid of magic. Lucius had done the only thing a sane wizard would under the circumstances- meekly agreed to everything Narcissa informed him would happen.

Unfortunately, providing a younger sibling for Draco had not happened, though Narcissa had not yet completely despaired of that event. She was not past the age when a witch could still bear children. She understood that window of time was shorter for Muggle women. One more way in which Muggles were inferior.

But it had come to her attention several years before Draco entered Hogwarts that her son did have a sibling. It just wasn’t one she had borne. The Malfoy family, like most pureblood families, had a tapestry which kept track of its many members. The Malfoy tapestry hung in the now little used children’s study room, where in days gone by it would have been used to teach the children to recognize all the far-flung members of their family.

In recent years, there had been markedly fewer members to keep track of- again, like most pureblood families. Though the Weasleys were certainly as prolific as ever, she had noted with interest. Lucius might sneer at the Weasley children, but Narcissa never had. Ginevra Malfoy sounded elegant enough. Molly Prewett was certainly well able to train her daughter in the manners expected of a well-born witch. And Narcissa would not mind having many grandchildren in due course…

Unfortunately, it had been a child of Draco’s generation that the tapestry showed her. Her son had a sister who was most definitely not Narcissa’s daughter. She would have remembered having a daughter- it had been her fondest hope that having given Lucius the heir he so desperately craved, a little witch would soon follow. The tapestry did not show the girl’s mother- it confined itself to Malfoys by birth or marriage.

The old fury had been her first reaction. Had Lucius managed to conceal another indiscretion? But looking at the date on the tapestry, she realized that this girl must have been conceived only shortly after she fell pregnant herself. The Muggle, then. She had ordered the house elves to keep Draco away from the children’s study. There was really no need for him to feel he couldn’t use the main library if he wished to study, after all, so long as they made sure he didn’t damage the books. Lucius had removed the racier or dangerous tomes to a private study as soon as Draco was old enough to crawl.

A few carefully cast spells on a day Lucius had taken their son to Diagon Alley to buy him a new broom- ‘it seems like it should be a father-son outing, darlings, don’t you think?’- had revealed that Buffy Anne Malfoy was in California. America. Far, far away. In fact, far enough away that the do-gooders of the Order of the Phoenix might have considered a Muggle who escaped Death Eater clutches safe there. That was when the disappointment set in. Not only had Lucius soiled himself consorting with a Muggle woman, he hadn’t taken precautions or even cleaned up after himself. It was all so sordid and tawdry.

But California was a long way away, and a discrete tracking spell had showed that the young girl remained in California. As far as Narcissa knew, there were no magical schools in California- she vaguely remembered reading something in her own school days about the area being unsuitable. The only wizarding school on the west coast of North America was located in Vancouver, and predated British colonization of the continent. So when she was still in California at 13, it was obvious that young Buffy, despite her halfblood status, was not a witch.

In retrospect, Narcissa recognized that should have given her pause for thought. Those of mixed parentage were nearly always magical. But she was too relieved to think about it. She’d dreaded having to explain to her son, which she would have to do if his half-sister entered the magical world. Wizarding schools did not enroll students under aliases. Names were recorded by magical quills at birth- they recorded the student’s true family name. She’d actually been in some dread the summer before Draco started Hogwarts- she had no idea where the girl had been born. It had been distinctly possible Draco would discover his sister at the Sorting Ceremony when her name was called before his.

To her relief, no Buffy Malfoy had materialized at Hogwarts- or, so far as she could ascertain without stooping to asking, at any other wizarding school. She had been still more relieved when the tracker spell she had never revoked failed late in Draco’s fifth year at Hogwarts. She’d assumed the young Muggle must have died. She understood that it was common enough- Muggle modes of transportation seemed very complicated and were known to be dreadfully dangerous, after all. Death was the only way she could think a spell on a Muggle would reasonably terminate. Narcissa knew without conceit that she was a talented enough witch that she should have been aware if the spell had been removed by another witch or wizard.

She felt the tiniest bit guilty rejoicing at another mother’s pain, but soon enough she had more pressing worries about her own child. She hadn’t given the faceless Muggle girl another thought. Until now. Because it turned out that the girl was alive. She had moved to a Hellmouth in Draco’s fifth year, not died. The ambient atmosphere of the Hellmouth had simply overwhelmed Narcissa’s spell. No wonder there were no wizarding schools in California!

And now there was no more sheltering her darling boy, because he’d found the tapestry while rummaging through the house trying to find one of his favorite childhood books. She’d raised her boy right, no matter what certain Gryffindors might think. Draco knew the importance of family. So he’d done the only reasonable thing he could think of- gone looking for his sister. He hadn’t told her, but she was his mother. She knew her son. He’d go to any lengths to protect his family, no matter what it looked like to outsiders.

Buffy was living on a Hellmouth, and that meant danger. She wasn’t sure Draco appreciated just how much danger. Hellmouths weren’t on the Hogwarts syllabus, even before those wretched Carrows had taken over the Defense Against the Dark Arts course. Did he know that wand-based magic was extremely unreliable in the vicinity of a Hellmouth? Or just how many dark magical creatures would be in the area?

At least he had good intentions, not that the Ministry types would ever believe it. He’d gone to move his sister someplace safer, if he could. Nevermind what the Aurors would think if they found Draco Malfoy on a Hellmouth. It didn’t even bear thinking what would ensue if they discovered Buffy Malfoy. She wondered if her son had considered that.

She could only wait and hope her son came safely home-preferably without attracting official attention. As long as he came home whole and healthy, she might even accept him bringing his halfblood sister with him.
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